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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168364">Vertraut Finden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warpony/pseuds/Warpony'>Warpony</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Familiars, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, On the Run, Pre-Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Starvation, Wizards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:08:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warpony/pseuds/Warpony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Caleb does not want to die alone, he is a selfish man after all, he won't burden a familiar with his life for long...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vertraut Finden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Caleb stared down at his trembling hands. He slowly, shakily traced the tense lines of his bones and the knobs of his joints under sallow skin. He could see the blue of his veins and the thready flutter of his heart in his wrist. Circling the joint a brief thought crossed his mind that even in his decay he could possibly break the bones of the joint. They must be hollow and weak as any bird's. </p><p>The hunger was gone. </p><p>He was not a ranger or a hunter or a woodsman but Caleb had once been the child of a small town with harsh, blistering winters. The son of a soldier...</p><p>He shook his head so harshly to shove away the thought it left him dizzy and gasping. He panted to catch his breath for just a moment before his vision cleared again and refocused on a scattering of freckles across his trembling knuckles. </p><p>Caleb had never been a survivalist. Perhaps he could call himself one now though his survival was unlikely beyond nightfall. Because what little he knew there was no worse sign of true starvation than when the hunger left and the gaping, hollow maw within him suddenly didn't matter any more. Hunger dulled all other senses and mind. It made a man reckless. Then dangerous. Then desperate. When it was gone there was nothing. </p><p>Caleb knew he was not some legendary hero of old. There was no indomitable spirit hidden away in his soul. No grand destiny. No fate. He could not even claim his revenge. His cowardice was to great for him to conceive of it as a reality much less let it anchor him into life. </p><p>When the hunger left him there would be nothing and some hungry beast would find his bones to gnaw the marrow from.</p><p>He should have realized that it was flickering away from him. The flame of hunger... of life... guttering and dying. Maybe it had crossed his mind. He foggily remembered looking at his own gaunt reflection as he scooped a few meager handfulls of dirty water from a rain barrel. Caleb must had have grasped at those last wisps of desperation before they abandoned him. He'd stumbled against the next man to cross his path, cut his purse strings and stumbled away to a stand of trees away from the town before the fog had over taken him completely. </p><p>Caleb clenched his tremoring hands together, trying to stop the shaking long enough to look in the purse. If there were a few coppers or a silver he could try and fetch the hunger back. Find the threads of instinct again to try... to <i>try</i>... </p><p>He started to pull open the coin purse. He managed a thin rasp of a laugh, dry as ancient crumbling paper, when it took more than one attempt with numb fingertips. The fine bit of cord and fabric blossomed open and a familiar scent drifted up and coiled against his dulled senses. Herbs. Incense. Charcoal. </p><p>Caleb slumped back against the tree at his back, he felt the bark bite through the threadbare coat and ragged shirt to rub uncomfortably against the buttons of his spine. His head fell back and he shut his eyes. A shuddering breath rattled it way through the cage of his chest and a streak of tears threaded through the grime of his cheek and over his jaw. </p><p>The wave of despair was a sad surprise. He had thought he has passed the shock and disappointment of inevitable death. He had thought he was passed hope. </p><p>Caleb stayed still there for long moments, breathing and losing time until the tear tracks had dried on his skin. Almost reluctantly he inspected the pouch again. Herbs. Incense. Charcoal. </p><p>Spell components. To summon a familiar. He must have unwittingly robbed a mage or enchanter. A twinge of regret curled in his stomach. He hoped he had not robbed someone else of their companion...</p><p>Feebly Caleb pulled out his own spell book. He'd stolen the blank journal new when he was still fresh from the Sanitorium, still flush with rage and horror and ideas of revenge. He could not have managed such a thing now. </p><p>He turned the pages slowly, trembling fingers passing over pages filled with runes and transcriptions. He turned slowly to a page towards the beginning. </p><p>
  <i>Find Familiar</i>
</p><p>He had learned the spell as a bright eyed child. Before... before everything... had never cast it... </p><p>He was a selfish creature. Perhaps he did not have to spend his last few moments alone. He would not burden some poor creature with his pathetic existence for long. Their bond would severe and the familiar would be free of him upon the moment life left him. </p><p>He smoothed a bit of earth in front of himself and slowly scratched out the ring of sigils and runes. He had no braizer but surely the component pouch itself would serve well enough. By the time he needed to strike a flame Caleb was trembling terribly. He took a moment to gather himself before sparking a cantrip of flame in his fingers and lighting the components.  Caleb settled into the ritual, murmuring the spell and feeling the arcane weave around him as the smoke curled and twisted in the air. His eyes pooled molten gold as magic threaded through his veins. </p><p>Caleb faded in and out of the hour, but never letting go of the arcane weave. The magic solidified around him and the last of the components and the pouch burned to ash, leaving only a few embers and a curl of smoke behind. A wave of exhaustion toppled Caleb to his side. His brittle body falling heavily on his side and he curled around his core with a soft whimper and eyes shutting tight against the ripple of dull soreness that washed over him. </p><p>Soft fur and warmth nudged against his brow. A raspy tongue scraped his skin and soft chirping and warbling reached his ears as something furred and smelling of herbs, incense and <i>fey</i> wedged itself under his chin and curled against his jaw and neck. The sandpapery tongue started to bathe his cheek insistently.</p><p>Shaking that much harder Caleb brought his arms up and clung to the small, furred body and sobbed. The gentle press of the creature's mind against his own and his heart was raw and strange and a comfort like he had not had since he was a child. He mumbled and slurred in broken Zemnian to his familiar as exhaustion overtook him and Caleb slumped into unconsciousness. </p><p>He could not know how much time passed, his keen mind sluggish and disoriented from neglect but it was late in the day when the sharp prickle of claws nipped his nose and cheek. Caleb bleary blinked his eyes open through a thin crust of salt and dirt. </p><p>Standing before him was a cat, larger than most and his tawny orange fur marked with rosettes, spots and stripes of black. Large, to intelligent eyes watched him anxiously. He clenched a fat, dead wood pigeon in his jaws; blood still fresh on the bird's feathers. The cat's tail lashed and he made muffled, nervous noises through his full mouth, whiskers quivering.</p><p>Caleb slowly managed to wedge himself up until he was sitting again. The cat waddled forwards and perched front paws on his knee, offering the wood pigeon towards him. </p><p>With shivering hands Caleb took the bird and set it in his lap then reached and gathered up the cat. Caleb cradled the familiar to his chest,  trembling fingers stroking over soft fur. Rumbling purring and warmth seeping into his numb chest and seeming to sink deeper through the thread of the bond between them. </p><p>"<i>Danke, mein freund.</i>" He whispered, voice raspy and cracked from lack of use. "You are the best cat. We will feast tonight and think of a name for you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Myself and the AMAZING AvinRyd had a chat this morning about when Frumpkin was possibly summoned for the first time. Avin suggested it was after Caleb escaped the sanitorium and well, things snowballed...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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